


The Windmills of His Mind

by pinkyapples



Series: Teen Wolf Thingies [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character study - Peter Hale, Comatose Peter, Eichen | Echo House, Gen, Peter-centric, catatonic peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkyapples/pseuds/pinkyapples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scream echoed through the ward as another victim of Valayk’s fell into a waking nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Windmills of His Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Set end S3A. I haven't seen S3B or S4 and any events, characters mentioned from those are based on various media & fan-forums and AO3 itself. This is just my imagining of Peter trapped in his mind and how he may or may not go insane - again(?) May or may not continue this story, but for the moment just stand alone in series.
> 
> Not beta'd all mistakes are mine. I don't own Teen Wolf. This work for entertainment and not based upon anything other than my own imagination, fantasy and hours browsing Wikipedia and Google.
> 
> Posted to Peter Hale Appreciation Week - why not, all about the man. Because it sounds horrendous (to english ears/eyes) Stiles name is *Gerwazy - (honourable) Sobieslaw - (seize glory) Stilinski

Peter Hale didn’t like Scott McCall. Partly because the boy had never submitted to Peter’s Alpha control and partly because of inherent belief in the potential for good within every living being. Even knowing what he now did of the supernatural, Scott refused to see death as an option. Nowhere was this more vividly demonstrated than his allowing Deucalian to walk away from Beacon Hills after the murder and mayhem his Alpha Pack had wrought upon the town. Peter dealt with Scott’s leniency towards Jennifer Blake and had left town following Deucalian’s trail. It had taken him six months chasing false leads before he realised that Deucalian was circling back to Beacon Hills. Peter caught up two towns north of Beacon Hills. Unfortunately, hunters were also tracking Deucalian and after a messy skirmish between the three factions, Deucalian was no more. It was a hunter who dealt the killing blow to Deucalian fell under Peter’s claws but the damage was already done. Deucalian’s Alpha power sunk into the soil along with his blood. Peter wondered dazed and confused away from the bloodbath and that was how a travelling Emissary found him. Having no identification and unable to communicate, the Emissary took him to Eichan House where he was admitted under the care of Dr Smith to the supernatural wing of the asylum. His roommate was a Cyclops known as Dr Valayk. Peter regained awareness only find himself confined to an asylum, wolfsbane sedatives flowing through his veins and a Cyclops as roommate. Peter may or may not have complained loudly about the last until Valayk forced the werewolf to look into his third eye. A scream echoed through the ward as another victim of Valayk’s fell into a waking nightmare.

*******************************************************

Dr Smith checks Peter Hale’s vital signs. They appear normal. He then moves to his next patient. Dr Smith is in charge of all patients in Eichan House’s supernatural ward. This is the third patient in as many months that “Dr” Valak has reduced to a vegetative state. Part of the Doctor, the part that still holds fear for his charges, is thankful not to have to deal with the sociopathic-psychopathic werewolf. However, as resident Psychiatrist in charge of attempting to heal the rifts in his supernatural patient’s minds, Valak’s “gift” is a real pain in the arse. The good Doctor doesn’t know what goes on in the minds of his patients at the best of times and especially when they lie catatonic. He can’t tell if they’ll be better for Valak’s mind-warp or not. This quandary is the reason the doctor lies awake arguing with himself about whether or not to ‘accidently’ change Valak’s medicine. Hippocratic Oath be damned. He thinks probably not. He thinks he’ll mention his concerns to the next Council of Emissaries and get them to deal with Valak. Afterall, Valak comes from their world and is their problem. Dr Smith checks in with the other two patients foolish enough to stare into Valak’s third eye and then returns to his office to write up his patient charts. It is nearly ten o’clock in the evening when he finally leaves the Asylum. He looks in briefly at Miss Doe, the wards first patient, before he leaves. Jones, the half-giant orderly, walks him to the elevator. “Goodnight, Dr Smith” Jones whispers quietly. “Goodnight, Jones. Call if anyone wakes or if you have trouble,” returns Dr Smith. In the twenty years since Jones has worked for Ward 13, there has never been cause for alarm. One never knows, especially when one is dealing with supernaturally inclined patients.

****************************************************************

The flames lick up and over his body like a lover’s caress. The heat is unbearable and the smell horrific. Peter’s vocal chords are burnt, but even if they weren’t he can’t scream. There is nobody left to hear him. His darling wife had held out the longest, shielding their child as they groped their way back up the stairs from the basement towards the front door. Peter’s hands had seared around the iron fire poker he was using to slash, bash and mash his way through the burning building. His back charcoal from fending off various falling timbers. They had made it to the front door and Peter was gathering up what little strength he had left to force the fire poker through the mountain ash line and free them. He turned to grab the hand of his mate and child only to discover that they had finally succumbed to the fire. He dropped to his knees and pulled them to him then collapsed across the doors entrance. The burns made by the ash line paled in compare to the soul crushing loss of his family and pack. Derek’s hands pulled him out from the house and Peter was “saved”. The last thing he saw was the roof of the Hale House collapsing as the ambulance drove him away. He closed his eyes. He opened his eyes. The nightmare began again.

***************************************************************

Peter had just opened his eyes again to the horror of fire when he felt a presence beside him. He turned to see. Only a wall of flame greeted him. The front door was just in front of him, they were so close to freedom. “Nearly there Freddie, give me your hand” he turned and fell to his knees, Freddie lay on the floor, little Celeste cradled in her arms. Peter dragged them towards him and gave up. He fell across the front door, the line of mountain ash burning though his already burnt back the pain barely registering. He felt arms dragging him away from his family, from his home and pack. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. He was in an ambulance. He was unconscious. Then he was awake and reliving the horror all over again. Except, he could feel someone else in the house. He looked around again but couldn’t see anyone or feel anyone. Just fire and flame, smoke and pain and the end of everything he loved. As he drifted into unconsciousness a voice whispered. “Stop experiencing the nightmare. I want to talk” Fire. Peter Hale hated fire. When he’d looked unwittingly into Valak’s Third Eye, fire was the nightmare the Cyclops trapped him in.

*************************************************************

He was reliving the Hale Fire, again, when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He looked around but saw no one. The feeling of a hand upon his shoulder didn’t disappear. The he heard a voice whisper in his ear, “Stop experiencing the nightmare. Observe it instead. I want to talk.” He looked around. His family were just feet away from the front door. He felt the hand upon his shoulder pull him back and suddenly he was on the lawn outside the burning house, watching himself collapse across the doorway. Watching as Derek dragged him out of the collapsing home. Watched as the ambulance with him inside drove away.

He experienced a violent spinning sensation and then he was back in the basement watching himself fight his way back up the stairs towards the front door in a valiant effort to save those he loved. The hand upon his shoulder dropped and Peter looked to his side. He could see no-one but knew his mysterious visitor was still present.

“Who are you?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know,” The voice answered. It was female.

“Why are you here?” Peter questioned.

“Your nightmare is fire. Fire attracts me,” She answered.

“Arsonist” Peter hissed.

“No. I am of Fire. It is an element I know well,” She offered.

“Show yourself” Peter demanded.

“I don’t know how,” She replied. “I have been searching for someone to talk to for so long.”

“Searching where?” Peter asked, curiosity taking hold.

“Limbo, or wherever people go when they sleep,” She said voice tinged with sorrow and grief.

“Banshee?” Peter offered.

“No. I don’t believe so, nor Seer either. They feel different. Kindred, distant cousins, perhaps” She said and this time her voice lifted as if she were smiling.

“Can you get me out of here?” Peter thought he might as well ask.

“Not yet. Can I come back and talk with you?” She asked.

“Don’t see why not, not as if my calendar is booked” Peter deadpanned.

“Good. Remember to observe, not experience, you will need your strength” She said and Peter felt her presence dissipate. He was back in the burning house, this time detachedly observing his nightmare instead of living it. He didn’t know which experience was more nightmarish.

******************************************************

Peter Hale wasn’t a fool. Neither was he convinced the sudden companionship of his invisible guest wasn’t a by-product of whatever Valak and his damnable Third Eye. However, he couldn’t deny that since following “her” advice to observe, rather than experience his nightmare, things had improved. He hadn’t woken from his catatonic state. As far as Dr Smith, Jones and the rest of the Asylum staff were concerned, he lay unresponsive in his bed. Yet now he could hear and smell what was happening around him. “Hello, Peter” her voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked around, but she remained a disembodied voice. He smiled wryly, perhaps he really was a fool.

“You aren’t. I’m not strong enough, yet” she said. Had he spoken aloud?

“To form a visage?” Peter asked, filling in the blanks of her conversation.

“Yes. Shall we continue our game?” she asked, voice tinged with mischief.

“What game?” Peter replied.

“The one where you guess my name and I bestow great power upon you,” she mocked.

“Rumpelstiltskin” Peter deadpanned.

She laughed. “No, guess again.”

“Why not? Not Banshee, Seer or wanna-be goblins; Goblin-Kin?” Peter inquired, eyebrow raised sceptically.

“Good gracious, No!” she answered and Peter could almost feel the shiver of disgust.

“Right, I suppose that rules out trolls, ogres, dwarves and giants then doesn’t it?” he quipped.

“Yes, absolutely distant, very distant, cousins,” she giggled.

“Really? Neanderthal Shaman” he tossed back and she laughed aloud. It reminded Peter of the rumbling of distant thunder.

“Ludicrous, entertaining thought nonetheless” and then she was gone and Peter was once more alone amongst the flames.

***************************************************

“Morgan Le Fey” Peter flippantly suggested.

“No. Nor Merlin either” she huffed, he imagined an eye roll accompanied the tone.

“Hadn’t thought of him,” Peter lied.

“Liar, keep guessing?” She sang and Peter felt a subtle shift in the air beside him.

“Mab? The Lady of the Lake? Guinevere? The Lady Morganne?” Peter quipped.

“Oh, really, Peter” Peter smiled, definitely an eye roll to those answers.

“I’m guessing nobody sent you an invitation to Hogwarts by owl post on your eleventh birthday,” he teased.

“No. I do not need to learn magic, whether spelt with a ‘c’ or a ‘k’” she snapped and vanished.

Peter sat amongst the flames of his nightmare and thought about her last reply. Clearly she felt insulted by the Harry Potter inference. So, Peter reasoned, if she was magical, then it was integral to her being and not inherited through blood.

*******************************************************

“Vampire? Werewolf?” Peter half-heartedly suggested as he paced in front of the burning Hale Mansion of his nightmares.

“No, and no, you really are ruining this game,” she sighed in exasperation.

Peter smirked. “Hobbit? Gnome? Ent?” he teased.

“No. No. Oh, closer, kindred spirit.” Peter heard her snicker and then a sound like she’d slapped a hand over her mouth, then she was gone.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” He said and stopped pacing. He turned back towards the burning house of his nightmares and thought about what kind of ‘kindred spirit’ a guardian of the forest might be.

**********************************************************************

“Just so I understand, mere werewolf that I am; Kindred in either spirit or body to Elven-kind, Guardians of Nature, Goblin-kind and their relations,” Peter suggested.

“Correct, sometimes master, sometimes servant, always guardian whether in slumber or awake…” she softly answered, Peter got the impression she was unaware she spoke.

“Trickster? Woodland God? Nymph?” he rattled off the suggestions flippantly, sure none of them applied.

“Perhaps, certainly closely related and who wouldn’t want to be a nymph?” she returned flippantly.

Peter raised an eyebrow, “If you are just a nymph, I’m a Dashhound” he drawled.

That made her laugh, Peter thought it sounded like a babbling forest brook. It made him uneasy and tugged at a half-forgotten story he heard his great-grandmother tell when he was a pup.

“I think you would make a splendid Dashhound, but I’d rather you remain a wolf.” Peter didn’t notice her depart, caught up in memory of his great-grandmother and her stories of the Hale family and various family-lore. He didn’t know how long he was lost in memory but he became aware of evening activities happening outside his cell. Still presenting, for all the world, like he was in a comatose state. Peter observed the destruction of his home and pack and remembered a story from his childhood. A fantasy tale that if even marginally true, would give him more power than ever an Alpha could. Could finally allow him return the Hale name to one of respect amongst the supernatural community.

*************************************************************

“Great Grandmother used to tell us pups wonderful fairy-tales. My sister, Talia loved Hansel and Gretel, or similar Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson. I always liked the Asian mythologies and the ones that spoke of dragons and magic curses. She had a favourite, she said it was a true story. Nobody believed it, even I thought it far-fetched,” Peter offered casually.

There was a rustling and ‘hmph’ of impatience from his mysterious companion. “Well? Is there a point to you telling me this?” she huffed irritably and Peter couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It depends. She told of a time of upheaval amongst magic and those that practiced magic. Magic, at that time, was as integral to mankind as the four elements. It was all around and woven into everything man made himself. Clothing, Housing, Food and Drink, all contained some form of magic. But over time, man began to separate himself from Magic. Began to separate Magic from the four elements. Began to try and tame Magic as he sort to tame Nature (as he called the four elements). Magic and Nature worked together to deny man complete separation from them. Supernatural beings came to pass that bridged the gap between Man, Nature and Magic. There were Supernatural that worked more closely with Nature and Magic. They were called Elves or Nymphs, Goblins or Giants, Werewolves or Shapeshifters, Guardians of the Forest.In the time of the Nemeton, the Werewolves were the Guardians of the Forest. The Hale Pack were the Guardians of the Forests around Beacon Hills. Great Grandmother said our pack went back to the times of Columbus’ but nobody believed her,” Peter paused in his story telling.

There was silence and it was just the lightest of breath against his cheek that indicated she was still listening. “Mankind soon discovered the benefits of having Magic practioners amongst their ranks and ‘Kingdoms’ would offer riches to those Supernatural who could serve their needs. Greed wasn’t just an affliction of mankind. Soon those that were supposed to protect Nature and Magic were bending both to their own needs. The Hale Pack fought for many years to keep Beacon Hills and its forests free from trouble. Until they were betrayed from within. Only the Alpha knew of the Nemeton growing within the forest, knew that it was the source of all Magic connected to Nature in the surrounding counties. The details are forgotten, but family-lore was that an Alpha’s Mate could not conceive. Desperate for pups to prove her love to her mate and pack, she sort advice from an outsider. The price was the location of the largest tree within the forests the pack guarded. The woman had heard her husband speak of such a tree but didn’t know either its location or its true value. She was given a potion that the stranger said would help her fall pregnant and would allow her to ask her mate where this large tree was. The woman fell pregnant and the stranger found the Nemeton.

The pregnancy was difficult and the woman, believing it was because of her deceit told her mate what she’d done. The Alpha ran to where the Nemeton was and found the stranger there with many man, readying to drag the felled tree away. In a rage the Alpha killed everyone present. When he was done he turned towards the Nemeton stump. Standing in the middle was a woman holding a large seed. She spoke softly to the Alpha, “There is a Hill to the south of here you will build your home at the foot of this hill. You will also build a town at the foot of this hill and in time it will be a Beacon for both man and supernatural. You will use my wood and for as many generations as you are old it both shall stand tall and shall know peace and prosperity. Then disaster shall befall both pack and town and though both survive, nevermore shall either know peace. Your pack shall fall and your home be destroyed but from this destruction four shall arise and through them I shall awaken and prosper.”

Peter finished his tale and looked back towards the burning embers of his home. In the context of his Great Grandmother's story, the fire made sense. Not that Peter really believed in fate. She didn’t say a word for a long time and then Peter heard her whisper, “so what does Great Grandmother's story tell you, Peter hale?”

“That you are the Nemeton. Or at least a representation of the Nemeton,” Peter replied solemnly.

“And if that were true, why would you be the one to awaken me when others have tried and failed gruesomely? She asked. There was a hidden power in her voice. It made Peter shiver. Whether in fear or anticipation he wasn’t sure.

“Because I am a Hale. Because it is time. Because I killed The Darach and took her power, such as was left. Because of all those reasons?” Peter offered.

“Yes and no. You have a peculiar power. I’m uncertain whether it will benefit me or not,” she neither confirmed nor denied, “I’m not even sure it is of benefit to you.”

“Well, far be it for me to hinder your motives. I’m sure there are other more catatonic wolves you can mentally stalk,” Peter snapped then edged away from her. Almost in fear of what she could do, but she just laughed and touched his shoulder. Peter turned to face her and found himself standing in front of a middle-aged woman with brown eyes and dark hair streaked with grey. Her dress was medieval in style and mottled green and brown.

“I’m sure there are many, none quite like you Peter Hale. None “Enable” their prey quite like you.” Peter ignored the insult asking what she meant by “Enable”. “It’s your gift. Your bite acts as a catalyst, awakens a person’s dormant supernatural nature to rise. Surely you knew this?” she asked, truly surprised at his ignorance.

“Why? Because my first beta transformed into a True Alpha? Or because my second turned out to be Immune and a Banshee?” Peter couldn’t help the bitterness that tainted his answer.

“Certainly, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin even Kate Argent are walking proof. But you think Talia valued your advice, both regarding supernatural matters and pack safety, simply because you were her younger brother?”

“She simply paid heed to the adage of keeping your enemies closer than your friends,” Peter said.

“If that were truth, you would have died many years ago. You were siblings, both given to an Alpha’s personality. She treated you as your personality and position required an Alpha to treat a potentially volatile beta. Exactly how you treat Scott McCall,” She calmly stated.

“I treat him with the contempt he deserves, True Alpha be damned. Beacon Hills is Hale Territory, not to be protected by a weak-willed pup who believes he’s the embodiment of a Disney hero. A song and a pat on the back won’t protect the territory from those who seek to take,” Peter ranted pacing with increasing agitation back and forth in front of the woman.

“It’s a new age Peter Hale. Magic has decided the darkness of the last centuries needs to be balanced. Young McCall becoming a True Alpha is just part of that redress. You may not like it, but you will respect it. Unless you wish to remain in this vacuum existence Dr Valak has placed you.”

Peter listened to her statement of fact and didn’t reply. It was something he knew he couldn’t change, or at least not without violence and destroying the tenuous thread between his niece and nephew. “Leave behind all foolishness concerning the current True Alpha. He is only a child and there will be consequences to be faced for the decisions he has taken. They will test whether or not he shall retain that power.” She stated before vanishing once again.

********************************************************************

Peter’s nightmare scape had changed. Now he sat in his old hospital room. Wheelchair bound, in agony as his body rebuilt itself and with only his nurse for company. He didn’t know how long he existed in this new nightmare. Peter didn’t know what he would gain by observing this particular past experience. The woman visited again, timing it with the memory of Peter killing Laura Hale.

“Why did you chose her? You could have waited until the Alpha Pack arrived. They were always going to come.” She was genuinely perplexed by this defining action.

“Laura was a head-strong little girl, it was apparent to Talia, Allen and myself that she had the potential to become Alpha. Talia decided she should be educated with this in mind. Yet her first act as Alpha was to abandon Beacon Hills. To take Derek and run away to New York and leave a pack member injured alone to suffer. In the six years I was comatose there was no communication whatsoever from her. I know this for a fact because Jennifer checked the hospital records.” Peter’s voice was devoid of emotion.

“Jennifer was your nurse?” she asked.

“Yes,” Peter replied.

“You told me she wasn’t completely sane herself,” she said.

“She wasn’t. I checked the records myself after I killed Laura. She made sure the medical bills were paid but didn’t bother to visit. Six years an Omega, they should have known what would happen to me upon full recovery.” Peter stated bitterly. The scene changed again and he found himself witness to his resurrection. The woman stood beside him as they watched him haul himself out of the ground and away from a weakened Derek Hale and stunned Lydia Martin.

“How long had you known about this particular spell?” she asked.

“Long before Derek fell in lust with a huntress. Knowledge is power,” Peter smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “You already knew Lydia Martin was a Banshee?”

“Not definitively, I knew the backgrounds of all the so-called elite of Beacon Hills at the time of the fire. Mostly because it helped Talia in her dealings with the townsfolk. Ms Martin comes from interesting bloodstock. As does Gerwazy Sobieslaw* Stilinski, although I do agree with the boy, Stiles is much easier to pronounce. I wonder if the Stilinski’s ever visited his maternal grandparents’ birthplace” Peter mused.

“Ask him when you are once again a free man” the woman shrugged and then left Peter with his memories.

*****************************************************************

Peter was asleep. He could hear the rest of the family waking, some readying for work, others for school. His wife stretched lazily beside him and nuzzled his neck before rising from their bed and waddling towards the ensuite. “I love you Peter but if this damn child doesn’t hurry up and get born I’m leaving your gorgeous ass.” Peter chuckled. Freddie was in the last month of pregnancy and her temper worsened with every day. He entered the bathroom and embraced his love, kissing the top of her head and then massaging her shoulders. “I love you Frederica Hale and ‘bump’ when born will be as beautiful as her mother. Or as handsome as his father.” Freddie laughed and leant back into Peter’s embrace.

“I’m sorry for your loss Peter,” the woman quietly said, coming to stand beside him as they watched life for the Hale Pack before the fire.

“We were one of those happy mistakes you hear people talk about in vague terms. You know, ‘a friend-of-a-friend-knocked-up-a-girl-and-they-married-then-fell-in-love’; I’m not sure we were the ideal of each other but it worked. The pregnancy forced us together but it also brought us together.” Peter spoke quietly, watching the scene where his little girl Celeste was born.“We were a balm for each other. Freddie didn’t stand for my bullshit and I was a calming influence for her. Talia offered her The Bite, but she refused. She believed you were born as you were meant to die.”

“You can’t regain what you’ve lost, you do know that?” the woman asked. She and Peter were watching one of the Hale family picnics. Wolves, humans, their pups and children were enjoying themselves as Talia and Peter played a game of chess. Both siblings aware of their environ more than they were of the game. “You could be this for your young Alpha, if you wished.”

“Yes, I’m aware that my wife and child are dead, my pack obliterated and my life as I knew it over. No, I’d rather stay in this hell-hole than submit to Scott McCall. Ms Martin is an asset but the only one worth my time or respect in that pack is Stiles” Peter admitted.

“He’s certainly an intriguing human” she said with a smile. Peter huffed.

****************************************************************

“Why didn’t you become Alpha after Talia died?” she asked one day.

They were observing one of the happier memories. The Hale Pack Memorial Picnic, Peter thought it must have been a couple of years before the fire. Freddie and He were newly engaged and Derek, Laura and Cora seemed younger. “It’s a hereditary thing, first born of the current Alpha. At least amongst born wolves, unless the Alpha wills another to have it, or unless they’re challenged and lose.” Peter answered absently, lost in the memory playing out in front of him. They stand in silence for a time before Peter turns to the woman.

“I’m able to sense more clearly what is happening outside, in the ward. I can hear when Jones, the orderly, enters the room and when the Nurse changes my IV bag.”

“And?” she raises an eyebrow in question.

“My senses are becoming sharper, but I still smell the wolfsbane they’re giving me and I can’t move my limbs.” He said.

“You are as healed as you are ever going to be Peter. Physically, at least. I think we both know you can never be the person you were prior to the fire. So now you need to decide whether or not you wish to continue in the role of Disney Villian to the McCall Pack; or carve out a new role for yourself” she said.

“I could use your knowledge and strength. I am still weak and,” she left the sentence unfinished.

“I thought the brat-packs last sacrifice healed your wounds,” Peter questioned.

“Their sacrifice helped. I am again a Beacon for the supernatural and eventually, more good will come to this township. However, wouldn’t you rather see your protégés reach their full potential sooner? Awaken Peter, join me as Guardian and know power beyond that of an Alpha” as she spoke edges of fanaticism coloured her voice.

“Put on the mantle of guardian? Is that my reward, you awaken to roam free and I become like you? Bound forever to this town and those brats?” Peter challenged.

“What exactly do you think I am, Peter? You took something of Jennifer Black’s power into you when you killed her. You know what I am. You have all you need within you Peter Hale. The potential to become an Alpha. The ability to awaken a person’s hidden supernatural. The knowledge of being part of a pack; of having been in love, becoming a father, the agony of losing everything you ever loved. The ability to survive. Stop wallowing in self-pity. WAKE UP!”

***********************************************************

The roar of an incensed wolf echoed through Ward 13 causing a cacophony of answering howls, screeches and screams. The loudest of these from Dr Valak’s room. Jones and Dr Smith rushed in to find Valak lying on his bed, clutching at his Third Eye and screaming in agony. The Doctor administrated a sedative and once it had taken hold pried Valak’s hands away from his Third Eye. It was burnt out. Dr Smith bit down on his desire to vomit and turned to look in his medical bag. He gently tended the wound and wrapped a gauze bandage around Valak’s forehead. He checked his vitals and made a note to keep Valak under sedation until he could find out who, or what was responsible for his injury.

The fact that Peter Hale had apparently awoken from his catatonia as had Dr Valak’s other ‘victims’ couldn’t be a coincidence. Dr Smith would have to wait until he could question all three individuals before he learnt how they had reversed Valak’s gift back on himself. For the moment, Dr Smith put Peter under heavy sedation until he could be certain Peter remained a beta wolf. The roar he’d let out upon awakening, wasn’t that of a mere Beta.

Dr Smith continued his rounds, calming the rest of his patients with Jones’ help before returning to his office. It was with some reluctance that he contacted Alan Deaton. Knowledgeable as the Veterinarian-come-Emissary was about all things Hale Pack; Dr Smith found him a difficult man to understand or trust completely.

 


End file.
